Can't Keep Up
by Walthurst
Summary: <html><head></head>Will makes an effort. Abigail makes a choice. Shattered teacups in the aftermath of destruction. [one-shot]</html>


**Disclaimer**_: Hannibal and all related materials are the property of Thomas Harris. Adapted for television by Bryan Fuller._

**Author's Note**_: Perpetually sobbing over Abigail Hobbs._

Can't Keep Up

**_I_**t's a late afternoon in October when they go out with each other. Abigail is both hesitant to agree but yearning to leave the hospital. She remembers his soft suggestion to come with him, and the expression of unease that littered his face when she looked upon him with dread. She knows how dead her eyes are, how they can go from a smoldering of catastrophic emotion to a hollow reflection of what she once was now, it flickered in and out like a faulty light-bulb. That was in the beginning of her newest chapter. She had hardly said anything to him them, mostly because her throat was still hurting from the sharp slit, and also because she couldn't find the right words. It seemed like such a hopeless idea to come with him then; why would she come with him? Abigail would be in more danger if she were to return to Will, but perhaps he already knew that. It didn't matter, her life was engrossed in tragedy now. As they walked through the park she couldn't help but muse on the idea. Will Graham was trying his best; he was not Dr. Lecter or her father, it felt like such an alien thing now- the concept of a _paternal figure._ It was a false idea to her. Every attempt at helping her had turned out to be a fraud or fabrication of what others wanted her to be seen as.

Abigail faintly remembers their first chance meeting, when she was in a hospital (how repetitive), he and Dr. Lecter had come in after Freddie Lounds' rather blunt way of portraying Will. Sloppy and offensive, but she was sure the journalist hadn't cared. They had taken her for a walk and at some point he guided her along with his arm as a crutch for her to hold onto. He did not do that this time. There was something squalid about physical affection now, as if she would hiss at anyone who would attempt it on her. Who knows, maybe she would. Any chance of being touched by others was hastily ignored; she couldn't risk getting disfigured even more. They did walk together, but the hesitance was there. She saw him as wanting to comfort her, wanting to fix the things that had happened to her- to the both of them. Abigail knew that it couldn't be true. One did not simply "fix" tragedy. Even with the promise of reconstructive surgery for her ear, it didn't squander the devastation that hung over her. She could still hear thankfully, the cut was close to severing that ability for her. Most of what she heard was distorted or muffled at times, but still comprehensible enough for her to distinguish what was being said. Another scar she had to hide; long hair that would curtain her disfigurement unless by some miracle, the surgeons could make her a new one.

Her turquoise eyes glanced around at the flurry of orange leaves that hung onto the trees, hues of yellow and shades of brown. They crunched beneath her boots as she strolled along. Will was lingering between near and far, he had previously cleared his throat, partly to get her attention and partly to establish that he might want to at least talk to her. What was there to talk about but how they were both carved into; he was gutted like a fish and she was the **sacrificial lamb.** He probably figured that the tension in their silence would break her.

_I'm already broken…_

"I have nowhere else to go." she spoke at last.

Her gait had slowed notably; a mid-fall breeze caressing her face and for a moment, she felt as if the weather had been that of her home in Minnesota. No mother and certainly no father. Oh sure, there were relatives she knew of on either parent's side, but those were distant people she had barely any connection to. They wouldn't take her in, not after everything that had happened.

"I could let the state take care of me, but that would be like trading away my freedom, but with you…"

"I can't guarantee your safety." he interrupted

Abigail looked over to him for the first time they had been walking within the park grounds. There was that storm of emotion behind her eyes again. She had expected some feeble attempt at trying to comfort her like a father would, then again all of that paternal instinct may have diminished when Hannibal killed her. Fair enough, she didn't like being treated like a child. Vulnerability did not equate to one's regression into a child-like manner.

"I know I messed up…Abigail. I should've talked to you first instead of assuming things from where I stood back."

"You know what they say about assumptions," she countered.

"Yeah…that you _shouldn't_."

She watched him, knowing he was not fond of direct eye contact, but there he stood with fidgeting fingers soon shoved into the pockets of his coat. After a few seconds, he finally looked back at her and then she saw all of the hurt and struggle that was wearing him down. They were like broken things, pitiful broken things. Abigail folded her arms and gave a huff rather than a sigh.

"If I stay by myself, it'll be easier for him to get me again. He probably will even with you around."

Will flinched at that, but she didn't care right now. It needed to be said. Ever since that fateful day, she'd been played for a fool, her life becoming immersed in scandal and tragedy. Dr. Lecter was more clever and elusive than she had known, and it was only a matter of time until he decided her value did not concern him anymore. She hadn't known him, only saw the things he did for her which admittedly felt good the first time around. She wanted a piece of that power to wield as her own, but it was not something she could ever obtain from someone like him. Here she had taken Will for granted, this sad little man with too many dogs and pretending to be her father.

They were both played, though in some way: she still respected him for it. He got in close enough just for her to place her trust in him. Usually it took quite a lot to earn such things from her. **Trust & Respect.** Hannibal changed the profiler though, there was a darkness released in Will and while she didn't know all of the details: she was willing to deduce that his new perception and morals would be set towards catching the cannibal. Her life had been toyed with on several occasions, now it was Abigail's turn to play. Her father had taught her how to hunt, Hannibal had taught her her how to conceal…perhaps this time Will could teach her how to trap. She wouldn't know what to expect from living with him, but if it dulled the pain as morphine did, even just a little bit…then she would manage.

"Do you still have the dogs?" there was a twitch of her lips at the corners.

"Y-yeah," he nodded and gave a sort of humorless chuckle "they're still with me."

The storm in her eyes lightened into the faintest reflection of gratitude, just between being hollow and turbulent, and then she continued to walk along. She could stay with Will. No one else could understand their mutual suffering, and while it wasn't the ideal outcome she had wished for, it was the best she could make do with for now. Will meant well, the amount of guilt that he carried was a signal for her to recognize that he did want what was best for her. Now he understood that she wasn't a lamb to be coddled, and that was far more satisfying than anything she'd endured lately.


End file.
